


A Plausible Excuse

by esteefee



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 10:18:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2306177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bookseller made this trip once a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Plausible Excuse

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [A Plausible Excuse (Chinese Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2388626) by [lzqsk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzqsk/pseuds/lzqsk)



> Beta by Mischief5.
> 
> I thought I should post this before I get jossed. No spoilers for S4.
> 
> Translated into 中文 by [lzqsk](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lzqsk/pseuds/lzqsk): [A Plausible Excuse 李菊福](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2388626).

The bookseller took his usual Thursday buying trip through the Holland Tunnel to Jersey City, and as was his wont, he put his trusty dog on leash and stopped into the tiny doughnut shop, ancient and dilapidated, that still made fresh doughnuts daily with their own antiquated machine. The bookseller liked their doughnuts, though; they were fluffy yet not too dry, and thickly glazed.

His dog, Bear, liked them, too. They both had something of a sweet tooth, though the bookseller tried not to indulge too often. Just once a week. 

He took the paper sack of doughnuts with grateful thanks and went out through the back door to use the public restroom there. It was probably cleanest, best-maintained public restroom in all the Tri-state area, and this was one reason why he liked to break up his trip by stopping here.

As he approached the entrance to the handicapped restroom, Bear started pulling harder at his leash.

" _Foei,_ Bear," the bookseller said. He pulled open the door.

Inside, a tall man turned to face him. He was wearing a green khaki shirt and pants. The bookseller recognized the man, a dog trainer of his acquaintance. 

"Bear, _zit,_ " the bookseller said, and locked the door behind him.

"I see he's better behaved this week," the dog trainer said, smiling slightly. His voice was low, a whispery rasp.

Bear sat patiently, but his tail wagged hard, whipping against the bookseller's ankle. 

"I think if we make him wait much longer, he'll give me a hematoma," the bookseller said wryly.

"Bear, _hier,_ " the dog trainer said, and Bear lunged forward. The dog trainer laughed, his face transforming from dour severity to bright joy as he knelt to pet the happy hound. 

The top of the paper sack crumpled within the bookseller's fingers. "Are you hungry?" the bookseller asked. "I have sugared, glazed, and chocolate glazed."

"Yes, very," the dog trainer said, looking up. "I'm a little tied up, though. Come here." 

The bookseller took a few steps and looked down at the dog trainer, who stared up at him, Bear in his lap. 

"The floor is very clean."

The bookseller made a face.

Bear shook himself and stood up, then nosed at the bag in the bookseller's hand. He opened it and took out a sugared doughnut, then tossed it to the side for Bear, who happily went after it.

"I suppose if you won't get up, I'll have to come down to your level," the bookseller said, making the dog trainer laugh huskily. He tucked away the bag and, using the handicap rail, the bookseller slowly knelt down to the floor; this wasn't an easy task, as he had a very stiff back, but he found hands supporting him just as he needed them the most.

"There," the dog trainer said with satisfaction. "Now let's see this feast you promised." 

They ate their doughnuts. They spoke of weather patterns, of traffic and the license plate of that guy who almost ran the dog trainer into the shoulder, of the excellent doughnuts, and of the difficulty of getting contrary hounds to follow the strictures of polite cohabitation. 

"He thinks first editions are much tastier than thirds. Especially if they are leather-bound, of course."

"Of course," the dog trainer agreed complacently. "Have you thought of coating one in something bitter and leaving it out as a red herring? I'm not saying it has to be _The Catcher in the Rye_ or anything. It could be a John Grisham."

"Well, that's just mean," the bookseller said.

"Mmm-hmm. Desperate times." The dog trainer smirked. He had a slight glazing of sugar on his lower lip. It was very distracting. Very much so. The bookseller licked his own lip, but the only effect this appeared to have was in making the dog trainer stare at his mouth. 

The bookseller blinked. 

"Desperate times," the dog trainer repeated. 

"Yes, ah."

"It's nice and quiet in here, without the noise from the highway. That's probably why no one realizes there's a rest stop here—it's off the beaten path, and the sign is so small, I barely saw it myself."

The bookseller nodded his agreement and licked his lip again. 

"That's also, ah, probably why it's so clean, and why they never bothered to put in cameras or anything—there's been no vandalism, no graffiti, no theft." 

The dog trainer seemed to be babbling. 

"An interesting phenomenon," the bookseller agreed, and then he leaned forward and licked the man's lower lip.

After all, there was only so much a fellow could take.

The dog trainer kissed him immediately, desperately, and then pulled back a little and started to mumble, "Har—!" but the bookseller ended that dangerous nonsense by kissing him harder, until he moaned softly and curled his fingers around the lapel of the bookseller's cheap, shabby suit, and focused on properly kissing him back.

That was very good.

The bookseller would have been happy to continue this for quite some time, but the dog trainer pulled away, a regretful smile on his face. Then he looked away, his grin broadening, and said, very, very softly, "Well, this certainly puts the plausible in plausible deniability."

The bookseller wanted to hotly deny that had been his reasoning at all, but looking at the dog trainer's face, he saw immediately it was hardly necessary; in fact, the trainer was now hiding his smile with a few fingers, his eyes gleaming green with mischief. In truth, the bookseller realized, this did make a very handy excuse for their meetings. 

"Very plausible," the bookseller said, meaning something entirely different, and from the dog trainer's expression, he understood. 

The bookseller leaned in for another kiss, just to make sure.

 

.................................  
September 13, 2014  
San Francisco, CA


End file.
